


In Love We Disappear

by a_mere_trifle



Series: Cosmological Constant [2]
Category: Persona 3, Persona 4, Persona 5
Genre: 2020, Angst, Chatlogs, Humor, Let Everyone Say Fuck, M/M, Meta, apotheosis, college!Akira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27678755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_mere_trifle/pseuds/a_mere_trifle
Summary: Takuto Maruki finds a different problem to fix.I can give them what they need, not what they want. You’ve taught me that much.And you know I can’t abide an unhappy ending.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Maruki Takuto, Kurusu Akira/Maruki Takuto, Maruki Takuto/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Cosmological Constant [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976314
Kudos: 15





	In Love We Disappear

**Author's Note:**

> One of several alternate ways 'Cosmological Constant' could turn out. 
> 
> No one:  
> Absolutely no one:  
> Me: Pretentious Marushu nonsense? Sure, I can do that!

\--

[_So come, my friends, be not afraid; we are so lightly here.  
It is in love that we are made, in love we disappear._](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6wdRLuzPJ0)

\--

The signs, looking back, were everywhere.

\--

Ryuji: I hate to leave you in the lurch, but I gotta take care of my mom.  
Akira: No worries.  
Akira: It’ll be much easier to live in sin this way.  
Ryuji: Whatever, man.  
Ryuji: For serious. Just stay outta my room and no weird shit on the furniture.  
Akira: Of course.  
Ryuji: For serious, for real.  
Ryuji: You know I don’t give a fuck, right?  
Ryuji: It’s kinda weird but we’re all kinda weird and I really do not give half a fuck.  
Akira: That’s really sweet of you, Ryuji.  
Ryuji: You know what I mean!  
Akira: Yeah. And it’s really sweet of you.  
Akira: Thanks.  
Ryuji: Oh.  
Ryuji: Sorry, I thought you were making fun of me.  
Akira: Relax, bro. Even Makoto said it.  
Akira: Makoto: It’s 2020. I am beyond all attempts at giving a fuck.  
Ryuji: Haha man we gotta never let her live that down.  
Akira: I think Futaba’s got it backed up on some servers in the Cayman Islands or something.  
Ryuji: Fuck yeah alibaba!  
Ryuji: Gotta go. You better be on the call tonight!  
Akira: I’ll even be fully clothed.  
Ryuji: Dude don’t even joke, my mom’s gonna be on that call!

\--

Ann was usually the first one online, these days. She blamed it on the timezones. Everyone else charitably ignored the fact that she was also self-isolating in another country. Akira was usually fashionably late, but he tried to curb that these days. It was easier; even he didn’t have anywhere to go.

“So yeah, it’s looking like it’s gonna be at least another couple weeks,” Ann was saying. “But the delivery’s way better now. I even got my hands on some yeast!”

“I wonder why the public has fixated on bread, there?” Yusuke mused. “I suppose it is more common in those countries, and certainly delicious.”

Ann shrugged. “It’ll eat up some time, anyway. Hey, Akira!”

He waved, as the others chimed in greetings. Ryuji wasn’t in frame; his laptop looked like it was perched somewhere precarious. Haru was in a pink bathrobe so fluffy he mistook it at first for a fursuit. Yusuke had his tablet perched on a table while he painted; Makoto was leaning in over her desk, her head propped on her hands. Futaba had a controller in her hands and a variety of snacks within easy reach. Sumire was cooking, and alternated between paying attention and scrolling through a recipe on the same screen. Morgana was perched behind Akira’s head, watching them avidly.

A loud clatter came from Ryuji’s room. “Shit, I mean, heck. I’m OK!” he called.

“Oh, Ryuji…” Morgana sighed.

“Moving is hard,” said Makoto, with a sage nod.

“Oh, speaking of, how is Maruki-sen--” Sumire coughed. “Maruki-san?”

“Hovering,” said Akira. “I think he doesn’t want to intrude.”

“I’m trying very, very hard not to go into counseling mode,” called Takuto from the kitchen.

“I don’t know,” said Makoto. “It certainly seems an appropriate time.”

“Want to say hi?” Akira called.

A few moments later, there he was, leaning over Akira’s shoulder. He watched his face on the webcam; it looked more hollow on the camera, somehow. He frowned, almost imperceptibly. But Takuto was smiling and squinting at the screen. “Hello, everyone. I’m sorry to intrude on your time together. I promise I won’t be here all night.”

“It’s good to see you!” chirped Haru, as the rest chimed in to agree. They probably meant it, too, at least for a few minutes. He’d never be a peer, but he could be a friend.

“How are you all doing? Are you taking care of yourselves?” His eyes landed on Haru’s bathrobe, then flickered away. “It’s very important to take time for yourselves.”

“It’s not like there’s anything else to do,” sighed Makoto.

“It might seem that way, but disruption of your routines always causes stress, even when it’s a disruption that gives you more time. Don’t be afraid to use it to relax. Do something kind for yourself.”

Makoto laughed a little. “I guess you weren’t kidding. But thanks. I probably needed to hear that.” She pushed a stack of books aside. “I think workaholism runs in the family. I’m going a little stir-crazy.”

“Man, tell me about it!” Ryuji’s head popped back into frame. “How the hell am I supposed to get any decent exercise in, huh? I’m gonna have to go runnin’ at 3 am or something!”

“As long as you take the appropriate precautions, regular exercise is good,” said Takuto. “Even healthy. Akira, please stop me.”

Akira leaned back, folding his arms with a smirk. “Consider it a rent payment.”

Ann suddenly sneezed, and Futaba snorted as she picked up her soda. Fujoshi confirmed.

“I feel I am underutilizing this time,” said Yusuke. “When will such an opportunity to devote myself fully to my art ever come again?”

“Pressuring yourself will only make it worse,” said Takuto. “While the time can be beneficial, and there have certainly been great works of art produced in quarantine, the lack of routine can paradoxically make things harder as well. Depression is a real danger under circumstances like these. Remember to take care of yourself, to take breaks, and don’t beat yourself up if you don’t accomplish all you think you should.”

“It’s true,” Sumire chimed in. “I’m watching class videos online to give myself more of a schedule. And I’m making sure to talk to people as often as I can. And yes, my therapist does video calls, so don’t worry, Maruki-sensei!”

Takuto groaned, letting his head drop to hit Akira’s shoulder. “I can’t shut it off…”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” said Haru. “Is it wrong that I’m kind of enjoying the break from everything? It’s been awfully complicated shutting everything down, and there’s all sorts of things going on, but… it sticks to business hours, now. My free time’s really free. It’s honestly… very refreshing.”

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying it,” said Takuto. “Our lives tend to be much too busy these days… especially in business. There’s no shame in enjoying having some work-life balance for once.”

“I wonder if I can make it more like this after things are back to normal,” Haru mused, and unwrapped a lollipop.

“I’m all for it,” said Futaba. “Man… it’s gonna be weird, going back.”

“Oh?” said Akira, before Takuto could. He grinned as Takuto rubbed his forehead.

“You know me. Can’t go out? Can’t get too close to people? Everything’s online? I was _born_ for this shit! I dunno when’s the last time I was this relaxed. The only thing that’s scaring me is what happens when I go back. I fought really hard to get OK with all that. What if I’ve lost it all again?”

“It’s like new game plus,” said Akira. “Sure, you may have to level up all over again, but even if you do, it’s way faster once you know what you’re doing. And you keep some of the perks from your first run, too.”

“That’s actually very insightful. Are you sure you don’t want to go into psychology?”

Akira turned his head, pressing a fleeting kiss to Takuto’s temple. “It’s rubbing off on me.”

“ANYWAY,” said Ann, as Futaba snorted. (Fujoshi re-confirmed.) “How are you guys doing?”

Takuto brightened. “It’s a change, but I’ve got a lot of plans. I’ll finally have time for all the jigsaw puzzles I got!”

Makoto chuckled; he could see a couple of the others shaking their heads. Ryuji probably didn't actually mutter ‘dweeb’, but he thought it hard enough it made little difference. “And there’s all sorts of papers I’ve been reading,” he went on, “and the library must have expanded their ebook collection as well. I have a few recipes I’ve been wanting to try myself!”

Akira smiled, shaking his head. Lying without lying. That was his Takuto. 

“Good, good,” said Ryuji. “Glad you’re not letting the layoff get you down.”

Haru and Makoto winced. “No, no,” said Takuto. “I’ve landed on my feet. That’s the last thing on my mind.”

Which, again, was probably rather close to the truth. Akira watched him on the webcam. His mask was flawless there, where you couldn’t see the lines around his eyes, couldn’t feel the way his hand tightened into a fist.

“Anyway, I’ve got a cup of tea I don’t want to oversteep,” he said. “I’ll let you get back to your discussion. Have fun!”

His phone buzzed. Akira checked it, as Takuto waved and made his retreat.

Sumire: Wow, that brings back memories.  
Sumire: I don’t like seeing him in counselor mode.  
Sumire: Is he really all right?

Akira tried not to sigh.

Akira: It’s 2020. Is anyone all right?  
Sumire: That’s true :/  
Sumire: Take care of him, won’t you?  
Akira: I’m doing all I can.

\--

It wasn’t going to be enough.

\--

Takuto was ashamed of shacking up with his younger boyfriend, but not ashamed to admit it. He was adrift, at loose ends, but he was finding ways to fill his time. Those things were surmountable.

He never touched a newspaper. Their only television was hooked up to his old console and DVD player. They kept far away from the news.

He still cried out in the night.

Akira hadn’t slept eight hours straight in weeks. He’d stir, at three am, to find Takuto glowing beside him like a jellyfish. He’d wrap his arms around him, and Takuto would shudder, catching his breath in a sob.

“Fight it,” Akira would whisper. “You’ve got to keep fighting it.”

It was worse at night. Even Akira could hear it, half the time-- the deep, desperate call for a savior, a better timeline, a benevolent God.

“Takuto. _Takuto._ Keep fighting it. You’re not theirs. You’re mine.”

And he’d nod, or clutch him tighter, or roll Akira on top of him, arching close, running his hands over his body like it was the only way to convince himself he was there.

“Keep fighting it,” Akira would tell him, even if he didn’t know how.

“I love you,” Takuto would answer. And Akira couldn’t mistake that for a yes.

_I’m trying. I’ll keep trying._

It couldn’t last forever, Akira told himself, and wasn’t sure if that was the voice of hope or despair.

\--

It was probably getting better. Some of the numbers were down. (Akira kept track where Takuto couldn’t see. Takuto never asked for the news. He didn’t need to.) Takuto had seemed more relaxed the last week or so; maybe it really meant something. Maybe it was starting to end.

They spent the day putting together a puzzle-- or Takuto did, while Akira frequently got “distracted” checking his phone. Takuto made dinner; he pulled Akira close while it cooked, dancing them through the kitchen, humming to the music in his head. They fed each other bites while Akira read out funny exchanges from the group chats. They leisurely made love; Akira showed him tiktok memes late into the evening, soliciting suggestions from the whole group for which would confound him the most. Oddly, Yusuke was the best at it. He contributed little, but what he sent was obscure and utterly bizarre.

It was a good evening. Takuto was smiling; some of the stress had left his eyes. They kissed goodnight, and Takuto snuggled up behind him, holding him close.

He’d realize later that the peace was a sign. People stopped worrying when they had a plan.

\--

He sat bolt upright, woken from deep sleep, his heart pounding. Something was wrong, and he didn’t know what.

Something was wrong, and he was alone in the bed.

Something was wrong, and he was alone in the apartment. And this was 2020.

He grabbed his phone. There were posts appearing in #wildcards as he did ( _Yu: Did anyone feel that? Aigis: I also have noted a disturbance, but I find its nature difficult to specify._ ), but that was irrelevant. He opened a DM, then closed it; Idle wasn’t the best platform, she’d have it on do not disturb. This was a job for SMS.

Akira: Futaba.  
Akira: Something’s wrong.  
Akira: I need a trace.

His eyes flickered to the bedside table, and the phone that was still there.

Akira: Shit. It won’t be that easy.

Cameras? As if he’d just walked away. Maybe he’d appeared somewhere? Maybe it would be making headlines? Were the changes starting already?

Akira: Shit. I don’t know if you can track him.  
Futaba: Why the fuck are you pinging me before noon do you want to die  
Akira: Takuto’s gone.  
Akira: I don’t speak just as a concerned boyfriend when I call this a code fucking red.  
Futaba: Mara on meth  
Futaba: I’m on it

He set the phone down, his heart racing, trying to think, but all he could see was Takuto, on a stool at Leblanc, playing with his coffee cup.

_It was unforgivable,_ he’d said, _but just sitting there, while she was in pain, and knowing there was nothing I can do about it… well. I hope you never understand._

His fist clenched in the sheets. “You son of a bitch,” he muttered. “You lying son of a bitch.”

\--

He’ll never know exactly what happened. But he’ll be able to put together a pretty good guess. He was pretty good at remembering things that never happened, by now.

And there were some perks of being a Wildcard.

\--

Takuto wasn't quite sure if the path were going up or down. He decided on _out_ , finally, not that it particularly mattered. It wasn't technically a path, but he saw it that way, a winding gray Trail out into darkness. He'd been on it for some time, but he wasn't letting that alarm him yet. He expected it. Time had little meaning here, and that old certainty weighed like a cloak around his shoulders. 

The power behind him was a little uncertain. This wasn't what it had expected him to do. But he'd claimed it, at last, and that was what it had really wanted. He'd claimed it, and he would do good with it, and that was what really mattered. 

One foot in front of the other. The darkness held no sway over one such as he. It was growing deeper, hanging like the threat of death over his head, but it didn't faze him. He knew what he was doing, and something was starting to loom in the distance. 

He hummed softly to himself as he walked along. The darkness grew thick; he waded through it. His goal was in the distance, now, a great pale shape in front of a golden door. He drew nearer; eventually he could pick out its features. A marble statue, in the shape of a boy. A roiling, furious darkness sealed behind him. 

The path would take him underneath the seal; it was looming overhead. It didn't matter. He didn't need the path, anyway. 

It was time to leave such pretenses behind. 

He called the power to him; it rushed through him eagerly, desperately, longing for use, for affection. His clothes felt different; he could tell it had shifted them into something it felt more appropriate. Well, that was all right. It could indulge itself, by all means. As long as it didn't go for the crown again. And as long as it obeyed his (last) commands. 

But it was better not to think too much about what he was doing. There was the chance it might object, and he had no intention of allowing it a choice. 

He rose. Gravity here was mere cognition, anyway; it was other forces he was fighting against, and they were no match for him. 

He rose, until he was level with the marble face; so young, so delicate, so utterly closed. Such a tragedy. And so unsustainable. He knew the power of the World too well, but the World was slowly leaving him behind. 

It was time for a permanent solution. 

“Minato Arisato,” he called. Something stirred, but only faintly. That was only one of his many names, and one long discarded. Perhaps another tactic. 

“Messiah,” he called, and his voice was a divine order. 

The head lifted slowly, a great crack of marble. It remained silent. 

“Your time here is over, Messiah,” he told it. 

_No,_ it answered. 

“It’s time to pass the torch.” 

_My duty… Will not… Be forsaken._

“It won't,” he agreed. “But it’s time to step down. While there’s still something of you left.” 

_Never._

He shrugged. He knew enough wildcards that he'd expected this. “Renounce your place,” he said, “or I will take it from you.” 

_…Try it, old man._

The Messiah’s power swelled, slow and terrible, but he wasn't afraid. The boy was rusty, and his own power was singing through his veins, forbidding fear, forbidding contradiction. He had the will of the people. He was the will of the people. 

“Let there be light,” he said, and there was light. 

The battle was fierce, brutal and slow. The victor was hardly in question. Takuto didn’t need to do much damage; that was half the problem. What he really had to do was endure. And with millions of desperate people behind him, he had more than enough stamina to last. The Messiah attacked, and attacked, but he was trying to chip a hole in a bucket that was being filled by a waterfall. Takuto didn’t need Wildcard tricks. All he needed was time.

The Messiah didn't want to give up. He poured light into Takuto, but he was unmoved. “Minato,” he called. The boy was on his last reserves.

A bolt of lightning ran through him. He let it wash over him, and held out his hand. “Minato.” 

“That's not… my name.” 

Oh yes it was. And if he could just get him to remember that, his job would be done. “They're calling you, Minato. Don't you hear them? You did a good job, you did such a good job. But it's time to step down. I promise I won't ever let it through.” 

“That's… That's not…”

His heart ached for the boy. He reminded him of Akira, who would give anything for his friends, for the world. But he wasn’t Akira; especially in this state, he’d be considerably less impervious to his tricks. “You made a great sacrifice. It meant so much. But you don't have to anymore. You can't. You can feel your power waning. If you want them to be protected… You have to let go.” 

“I don't even know you. How can I trust you?” His voice was getting frailer, more panicked, considerably more human. 

“How can you stop me? I am God, Minato. I am the will of the people. I am the desire for a just world, for a better ending. The world has gone without me for far too long. It's time I take my rightful place, and you take yours. Beside your friends, where you belong.” 

“I belong… I belong here!”

He shook his head. “Who told you that? And do you think that Nyx is the only threat they'll ever face?” 

“What do you mean…?” 

“They need you, Minato. There are other enemies out there, and they need you by their side to fight them.” It didn’t sound like a lie, because it wasn’t.

“I... this is wrong…”

“It's not. Come on, Minato.” His voice shone with love, with compassion, with admiration. “You've done so well. But it's time to go where you're needed.” 

“Where I'm… needed?” 

Oh yes, he knew Wildcards. “Where you're needed, Minato. It's time to go home.” 

The marble was dissolving. The roiling darkness was deepening, preparing to strike. 

“Hello, old friend,” he told it. 

Oh yes, he knew Erebus. Humanity’s despair and longing for death...he'd spent a career fighting it. It had stolen almost everything he’d loved. Yes, that was the cause he'd chosen. It was time he returned to the path he'd forsaken in his audacity and foolishness.

“I understand why you're doing this,” he told it. “But I'll never back down. For the happiness of everyone, I will be your seal henceforth!”

The door slammed. The darkness raged.

Minato Arisato fell.

\--

**#wildcards**  
so what poor bastard gets to try and Maragidyne THIS bitch #2020

Minato: Hello?  
Minato: Oh, it did send.  
Minato: Help?  
Minato: Some jerk attacked me and took my place. Then I ended up in Tokyo somehow?  
Minato: It might be the apocalypse again?  
Minato: FML  
Yu: Minato-kun?!  
Yu: Are you all right?  
Minato: Physically.  
Minato: Pretty fucking bewildered, if I’m honest.  
Minato: I ended up at a cafe where this grumpy old man is feeding me curry and asking me what the hell rock I’ve been hiding under.  
Minato: Oh, now he wants to know if I know Akira-kun.  
Minato: I’m going to guess I do.  
Akira: Takuto, you motherfucker.  
Akira: Yeah, tell him I said hi and I’m gonna call him in a minute.  
Akira: Takuto you MOTHERFUCKER.  
Minato: That’s the bastard who got me?  
Minato: Can he hold it back?  
Akira: Motherfucker.  
Minato: He said something about having the will of the people behind him, was he a wildcard?  
Akira: He’s a MOTHERFUCKER is what he is  
Yu: Akira’s probably pretty upset right now.  
Yu: They were close.  
Yu: He wasn’t a wildcard, but he was God for a while, so it’s probably all right for now.  
Minato: What the fuck.  
Aigis: MINATO  
Aigis: COORDINATES ACQUIRED  
Yu: Akira-kun, you probably want to warn Sakura-san that a former combat robot is on her way to break into his cafe.  
Akira: Give me thirty seconds  
Akira: Motherfucker.  
Akira: On it  
Minato: Is this thing a phone? Where did it come from? How is it connecting?  
Akira: god works in mysterious ways  
Yu: Just relax for now. You’re going to have a hell of a lot to catch up on.  
Yu: Welcome to 2020.  
Minato: Holy fucking shit.

“Hey, Boss.”

“Akira, what the hell? I’ve got some emo kid at my bar who looks like he’s practically got a concussion.”

“It’s-- really unexpected.” Akira pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I can just about guarantee he doesn’t have Covid. Also, one of his friends is headed for you at full speed. If she breaks down the door, tell her you want Mitsuru’s contact information. Trust me, they’re good for it.”

“Breaks down the-- Akira, what the hell is going on? This kid knows nothing!”

“You asked if he’d been living under a rock? He basically has. He knows nothing about what’s going on. Treat him like a time traveller from the 2000s. He’s really, really fucking confused right now.”

“Shit. You can’t be serious…”

“I wish I weren’t.”

“Are you OK, kid?”

Akira sighed. “I… no. Yes. Something really big and unexpected just happened.”

“Oh, shit, tell me it’s not gonna start raining blood again.”

No, that’s what he had done this to avoid. “No, it’ll be OK for a while. Or as OK as anything else this year has been. No blood rain.”

“Akira. Are you OK?”

He wondered how Sojiro had gotten the news about Wakaba. Where he’d been when he’d heard. What he'd done, how he’d felt. How close he’d come to doing something stupid. How he’d survived.

He wondered if he could hear it in his voice.

“You get through it,” he said, “right?”

“Kid, kid, tell me, what’s going on?”

“Just the usual,” said Akira. “You get through it, don’t you?”

“Kid, what have you--”

A suspiciously loud crash. “MINATO!”

“What the hell, you can’t come in here without a mask! And what the hell did you do to my door?!”

He should laugh. He should explain. He should intervene.

It wasn’t in him. For just this once, he was selfish. He hung up, dropped the phone, and buried his head in his knees, curling his back against the world.

\--

Akira,

I’m sorry I wasn’t a stronger person. I’ve made any number of mistakes in my time. You’ll hate me for saying it, but part of me is glad you’ll get the chance to move on, now. You could have your pick of the world, don’t deny it. You can find someone better, healthier, wiser. Someone who'll make you happier than I can.

I don't have to tell you why. I don't have to tell you what's been happening. You've been there with me through it all, and I don't know how I would've fallen, to what depths, without you by my side. Fight it, you tell me, and I've been trying so hard. But it's not getting better, and I know I'm running out of time.

Fight it, you tell me. I can only think of two ways. And I won’t surrender.

I can’t stop it from taking me. I can’t stop it anymore. But I don’t have to use that power the way they want me to. I don’t have to save them in the way they intend. I can give them what they need, not what they want. You’ve taught me that much.

And you know I can’t abide an unhappy ending.

I know it’s cruel to ask you this, but I’m afraid I have to. Please, just let me do this. These are my wishes, this is my will. This is what I want to do with my life and my power. This is the place I belong.

(Yes, I’m stealing from Akechi-san’s playbook. It worked for him, and I’m not a very good person, when the chips are down.)

Please, let me go. Let me make this decision for myself. Don’t blame yourself; don’t tell yourself there were signs you might have missed, something you could have done to stop me. You saw all the signs. We both know it. You just didn’t have the answers any more than I did.

I realize it’s possible you’ll ignore all this and find some way to ruin all my plans. I’m aware that there’s another fistfight in my future if you manage it. But don’t lose yourself, Akira. Especially not for me.

You did so much. More than enough. If it weren’t for you, I’d be that blind idiot god twice over-- or I’d be dead in an alley, if I had the sense to refuse it the second time. You gave me another option. You made me so happy. You’ve saved me. Don’t ever blame yourself.

I hope you’ll move on. I hope you’ll be happy. I know that no matter what, you’ll keep blazing your own path. Don’t let it take you either, my love. Don’t let their will define you. If you ever take that power, find a way to make it your own.

I love you. You have my heart forever. Someday, beyond it all, I know we’ll meet again. Don’t worry; I can wait. Go and make your mark on the world. I’m so proud of you.

I’ll miss you, but Akira-- I don’t know if I’ve ever been so happy.

With all my love, forever yours,  
Takuto Maruki

\--

Akira had Takuto’s music loaded on his phone; he’d backed his own onto Futaba’s cloud for now and wiped the library clean. Sometimes he’d research, looking up lyrics, release dates, wondering where Takuto had been when he’d first heard it, what it had meant to him. Some took more effort than others; he’d even recruited Ann’s help for the English ones, once or twice.

What was sticking in his head was something slow and sweet and low, that curled down your nerves like the slow burn of alcohol, like a hand drifting down your chest. It called to the sorrow in him, it kept him grounded while part of him was telling him to set the world ablaze. It made him remember cab rides, dinners in, leisurely couch makeouts when bed was far away and there was nothing to do. It made him remember that particular look of complete, irrational devotion Takuto would get sometimes, staring at him from across the room with a soft and goofy smile.

_O Crown of Light, O Darkened One, I never thought we’d meet._  
_You kiss my lips, and then you’re gone._  
_And I’m back--_

A glimpse of blue in the lonely Harajuku streets.

_\--Back on Boogie Street._

He followed her past the flower shop, past Chihaya’s empty stall. He followed her when she turned into an alley, and stopped, turning around.

“Good evening,” she said. “What should I call you?”

He considered that. “Joker,” he said.

“Hmm. Is that so?”

Not with this music playing in his ears. He pulled the earbuds out. “Yes, Elizabeth-san.”

She smiled. “You’d like to talk with me, wouldn’t you? It’s quite safe here. I can promise that no one will overhear.”

Of course not. He’d felt the shiver of blue around the edges of the world. He’d heard the laughter in the back of his mind. _A risk indeed. She’s getting cocky. Shall we teach her to be more careful which liberties she permits?_

“What is it you’d like to ask me, Wildcard?”

Ask? He wasn’t sure he even needed to. “You took him there.”

“Took? Hardly. He had the power, and he already knew what he was looking for. I merely pointed out the way.”

“Did you encourage him?”

She looked at him, her lips set. “Yes,” she said.

Somehow, he hadn’t expected her to baldly admit it. He should’ve known better, he supposed.

“And I won’t apologize,” she said. “A great wrong has been righted. The world itself is safer now. And he is using his power in a way he chose, that will not ruin his mind or twist the world itself.”

She wasn’t exactly wrong, he knew. His lips were pressed tightly together.

“He chose to do this, out of the concern he held for humanity, as the only way he could avoid corruption. And he has.”

That was probably also true. He could feel the ghost of a mask on his face, slipping between himself and the world. He should probably care, but the mask was his, the mask was safe, the mask never felt pain. The mask was his calling. You couldn’t fight such things forever, now, could you? If it was a true calling, you didn’t really want to.

“You could call it his penance,” she said.

Like a blade, he was sharp, cold, still. “I’m going to fight you now,” he said.

“I was expecting you to say that,” she said. “This space will also serve as the arena for a fair fight.”

“Like any of you fight fair.” He smirked. “That doesn’t matter. I don’t either.”

He felt them at the back of his head again, the roster he’d summoned for the fight with-- better not to contemplate that now. No time to change it, but that wouldn’t matter. He’d been at the height of his powers, flush with resources, and very, very pissed off. His roster was stuffed with as many flavors of Satan as he could summon, as well as a few other surprises; he wouldn’t be able to assemble one better.

He was well prepared to fight a god. She might be damn close, but she wouldn’t be a match.

“Megidolaon!”

“Debilitate!”

She hit like a truck, but he was used to that. She was switching Personas too. “I really shouldn’t be letting you use all those toys,” she giggled, “but how can I tell a Trickster not to cheat?”

“What the hell is Masakado? How the hell is Masakado? He’s not in _my_ Compendium.”

“Call it a legacy,” she said. “Myriad Arrows!”

Well, Satan’s gun resistance wasn’t helping. Either that was vanilla Phys somehow or she was cheating again. “Metatron! God’s Judgment!”

“Well, that’s audacious of you,” she laughed. And why shouldn’t she? She’d already won the fight she actually cared about. “Thor! Ziodyne!”

“Vishnu! Vacuum Wave!”

A war of attrition, a game of tag, and she was still laughing as her health dipped gradually lower. The conclusion was foregone. She’d won her war.

But he _would_ win this battle.

“Messiah! Megidolaon!”

He’d been saving that one. It at least took the smile from her face as she watched it float behind him. “Your skill at cheating really is unmatched.”

“Cheating? Please. It’s mine as much as his, now. Trickster, Messiah, what’s the difference in the end? It’s just your attitude as you go down the same path. For God so loved the world.” He grimaced. “Messiah! God Hand!”

“Alice! Die for Me!”

“And you call me a cheater,” he scoffed. The dice fell in his favor. He knew they would. “Alice is cheating incarnate, everybody knows it.”

“Incorrect,” she said. “That would be you.”

“Megidolaon!”

She was far enough gone that it at least made her stagger. “Tell me,” he said. “Was that your quest? Was that the salvation you sought? To replace one scapegoat with another you didn’t like as much?”

“An improved and more durable scapegoat,” she said. “One who needed the sacrifice as much as it needed him. And if you don’t like it, then I suggest that you do something about it, Trickster.”

He froze, for just a moment, at the sheer fucking audacity of it. She dared to imply that she had done this-- to prompt _him_ to act?

“Megidolaon!” she called. He was pretty sure that wasn’t the Megidolaon he knew, either, because he felt Enduring Soul kick in. Cheater, cheater, _cheater_ \--

Cheating incarnate, was he?

“Oratorio!” And, before she could take her turn, “Satanel! Black Viper!”

It was probably the shock more than anything that drove her to her knees. “...Well done,” she breathed, and she sounded like she meant it.

“It was a foregone conclusion,” he said. She was a mysterious being of deep wisdom and unfathomable power. But he was Joker. He couldn't fail. The world would not permit it. 

“You've figured it out,” she said. “I knew one of you would eventually. And you certainly had an edge!” 

He passed a hand over his eyes. “And so the chain continues,” he said. “Another Wildcard, another sacrifice, another… are you happy now?”

“Trickster,” she said, “let’s _break_ the chain.”

He was silent, his lips pressed tight together. “Do you realize,” he said, “just what you’re asking of me?”

“Probably not,” she said. “But it’s my offer, for you to take or refuse as you will. If you choose to walk down that path, I will back you utterly. And if you succeed, you may yet liberate yourself as well.”

Yes, but to gain that power, he would first have to surrender to it. 

Wasn’t that the fucking story of his life?

“I will not be settling for this,” Elizabeth said. “I still seek a better ending. I will do so whether or not you make your own efforts toward this end.” She stood, dusting off her skirt. “But I do hope to see you on the way.”

She turned, and walked away, with no further farewell. He offered none of his own; he just watched her leave, as reality shimmered back into place around him, as the voices returned in the chill evening air.

\--

He wasn’t sure which roof this was, offhand. He didn’t need the tallest tower in Tokyo. He just wanted someplace high to look (to fall) from.

He watched them, faceless from this high up, the still seething mass of people, the inchoate web of hope and pain and longing. Part of him wanted to hate them. Look what the force of their desires had done. But he couldn’t. They hardly had a choice, especially not individually. If he hadn’t been chosen as their vessel, he would’ve been one of them. 

Or he might be hanging from the rafters of Leblanc. (No… too much rebellion in him. He’d break another way. Maybe he’d have joined the Yakuza. Maybe he’d have killed Kamoshida and burned the school down. He might have picked another form of suicide, but he wouldn’t have gone down alone.)

They’d been called because they were needed, and they’d needed to be called. It was what it was, and there was no use regretting it.

All the people, a million separate worlds, all with their own needs, their own fights, their own virtues. Takuto had loved them, individually and in the conglomerate. It was a trait they shared. And for that love…

They were content to give anything.

The people needed a Trickster? A Trickster they would have. 

And if they reconsidered the wisdom of that decision before he was done, well, that just meant he was doing his job.

He spread his arms, slowly, in announcement, in an embrace, in giving himself away. No one might be watching, but that didn’t matter. The World was always with him.

And Joker said, “Let us start the game.”

\--


End file.
